


Aftershocks

by ladygabe



Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Character Study, Crew as a family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 21:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5307167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladygabe/pseuds/ladygabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ares 3 Crew returns to Earth, and Mark realizes he is not the only one who will have a hard time adjusting. (A character study of the crew during their first few hours back home.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftershocks

Watney had known the crowds were going to bother him before the Hermes even got in sight of Earth. Sometimes having all of the crew in one room was too much for him; a swarm of NASA officials with the media flanking them was going to be a nightmare. He had talked about it, candidly, with the crew. Self-consciousnesses did not feature into the equation, not with the things they had gone through together. They had simply made plans to deal with the problem. Lewis and Vogel would be in front. Martinez and Johanssen would run interference from anyone coming from the side. And Beck would stay with him, right by his side, ready to handle any panic attacks or lead him to safety.

Watney joked that they were his own defensive line. Martinez was the only one who really got it. Nerds, the lot of them.

What Watney did not take into consideration was that his crewmates had suffered from a form of isolation themselves. Sure, they had had each other, but they had spent nearly three years in space where there had never been more than five other people within a thousand miles of them.

When he lifted his head from the panic attack the crowd had brought on, letting Beck sit back from where he had been protectively hunched over him, his first thought was that this is what being in a pack must feel like.

The crew had been hustled off of the landing pad and brought to a spacious conference room, but none of them were more than a step away from each other. Lewis hovered nearest the door, arms crossed too tightly over her chest, as if she was on guard duty. Vogel and Martinez had their backs half to him, to give him some semblance of privacy during his meltdown without being out of arm's reach. Johanssen was the closest, curled up in a chair like she was trying to fit into a shell, but where she could reach out and stroke both Watney and Beck's backs, offering comfort where needed.

They all looked more on edge than they did when they all thought the reactor was leaking.

Watney had just opened his mouth to make a smart ass comment, determined to break through the tension in the air, when the Director of NASA breezed through the door, heading straight for him.

His defensive line's blocking capabilities would have made an NFL coach cry with pride. Lewis went down the center and Vogel and Martinez flanked her, preventing the man from getting around to either side.

It always amazed Watney how Lewis could seem to get bigger at will. She was a tiny woman, really, barely coming to his chin, but in front of Sanders she might as well have been six foot tall and bulletproof. Sanders stuttered a step, coming to a halt.

"Excuse me," he said, in the tone of a man who very rarely felt awkward. No one moved.

"Director," Lewis answered smoothly. "Good morning."

Sanders retreated to keep from being a uncomfortably close to her. His entourage had paused at the door, seeming to have better instincts than their leader.

"Ah, good morning." He glanced at the three blocking his path, then to Beck and Johanssen, who Watney belatedly noticed had somehow gotten even closer to him. "I was hoping I could have a word with the Man of the Hour."

Watney lifted his hand, giving Sanders a little wave. He had only met the man once, right before the Ares 3 crew had suited up for take-off. "Hey, Teddy. Don't worry, my hearing's fine."

Sanders set his jaw, obviously disappointed that Watney had not waved his guard off. He recovered, however, clearing his throat. "Well, let me just say, on behalf of everyone at NASA,  welcome home."

"It's good to be back," Watney said. That much was true, panic attacks and the fact that gravity was really /annoying/ aside.

"I don't want to let overwhelm you, but first things first." A pointed cough came from the doorway. Watney recognized the head of media relations. Sanders sighed.

"Right, right. Would you be up for making a press statement?"

Watney's own "no" was bolstered by five more voices. He tried not to laugh at the startled expression on the director's face. The media relations woman made a strangled noise.

"Look," Watney said quickly, interjecting before there could be arguments. He had known this was bound to happen. "Why don't you get me a webcam? I'll make a little video statement you can play." It would be like recording logs in the Hab. He could do that.

Sanders looked back at the woman, raising his eyebrows in question. She sighed over dramatically, flapping her hands in the air before turning and walking away.

"... I'll take that as a yes!" Watney cheerfully called after her.

"Thank you," Sanders said, sounding genuine. Apparently he did not want her up his butt any more than Watney did his. In fact, he had relaxed a great deal, tone more cheerful as he continued. "Secondly, I have a car to take you to GRC to get checked over."

Watney did not realize how much he tensed until Johanssen squeezed his knee comfortingly. The idea of a strange doctor and no doubt a horde of nurses poking at him turned his stomach quicker than the sight of a baked potato.

"You have my records," Beck said, defensive, while Watney quietly walked himself through breathing exercises. "They're all up to date." Sanders gave the doctor a withering look.

"We have much more sophisticated technology down here than on the Hermes."

"Then I'll go and give him the exam," Beck answered, sitting straight up now, face hard. Watney reminded himself that he needed to tell each and every member of his crew how much he loved them.

"His doctor is already standing by, ready to begin," Sanders explained with false patience.

"I  _a_ _m_ his doctor," Beck snapped. Sanders expression closed.

"With all due respect, Dr. Beck, at this moment you are an unemployed civilian who is not awaiting his trial for mutiny only by the grace of _my_ administration."

Watney did not know where the rage came from. He was not a particularly angry person. Sure, he had thrown his fits a time or two, particularly at himself or at Mars, but it had been a long time since he had felt a keen desire to punch another man in the face.

As it was, he was suddenly on his feet and around Lewis, his nose halting scant inches from Sanders' own.

"I swear to _God_ , if you fucking _think_ about even _scolding_ a single one of my crew for _anything_ they did, I will go right out there in front of those video cameras and I'll give them a press conference that'll make sure you never get work again in your _life_."

The shocked look in Sanders' eyes was close enough to fear that Watney took a malicious pleasure in seeing it.

"Mark, what the hell?" Suddenly there was a foreign hand on his chest and someone was pushing him and Sanders apart. He was in the process of cringing back from it when he realized it was Mitch Henderson. "Teddy, get the fuck out of here."

Apparently, being yelled at by both the King of Mars and the Director of the Ares 3 program was enough for even Sanders. The man retreated quickly, leaving Henderson shaking his head. Henderson wiped his hands on his slacks and shut the door before he turned back to the crew. "That asswipe. Sorry about that, you all."

Watney found his place back by Beck, trying to ignore that his hands were shaking. Henderson, at least, was wise enough not to try and follow. In fact, he gave the whole crew a respectful distance no one else had thought to even offer.

"Look, I've only got a few minutes before your families all eat me alive for keeping them from you." There was a murmur and a straightening of backs around him. Watney watched his friends remember there were people on Earth they were going to be /happy/ to see. "But before I hand you over to them, what do you all need?"

Watney exchanged looks with his crewmates. His friends. His chosen family. He saw the deep lines in their faces, the dark circles under their eyes, highlighted by the stress of their homecoming.

He realized that he was not the only one who was going to have to take this slow.

"Get us a room. One of those big fancy ones with multiple beds." Henderson looked confused, but he nodded his head. None of the crew had to ask why. 

"Sure. Sure thing." With that, they were finally led to where their families were waiting for them.

After all the reunions, the tears, and the hugs, the excuses began to get made, like Watney knew they would. The apologies, the blaming NASA for pulling them away from their loved ones again so soon.

It hurt, in a way, seeing of the crew shuffle into the hotel room, one-by-one finally suffering from enough over stimulation to have to pull away. There was no way to explain, he knew. No good way to tell his mother and father that he could not be around them right now, no good way for Vogel or Martinez or Lewis to tell their significant others they wouldn't be able to sleep if they stayed in the same bed.

But at the same time, sitting on the overly plush bed, brushing his fingers through Beck's hair, calf falling asleep from the weight if Johanssen's head, watching the others settle in a way they only could around each other, Watney felt a deep sense of peace. He had been terrified of being broken, of suffering alone all over again by his own weakness.

Instead, he was surrounded by a crew who had chosen isolation, who had chosen pain, who had chosen to suffer as he had just so that he would never be alone again.

And there was no greater comfort than that.


End file.
